The Oh So Wonderful Bouquet Curse
by Solnushka
Summary: Wilson is part of a magical family, he’s cursed, he’s invited, and he has to fall in love. WilsonHouse or Houson. Crappy Summary, Mildly Amusing Story. If not written in a rather..fumbling manner Rated Teen for the usual crude language and whatnot.
1. Dear Jimmy Wilson

**Title:** The Oh so Wonderful Bouquet Curse

**Summary: **Wilson is part of a magical family, he's cursed, he's invited, and he has to fall in love. Wilson/House. Crappy Summary, Mildly Amusing Story.

**Rated:** Teen, for crude language, amongst other things.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own House, or any television series for that matter. So considering that, you know what's a fun activity? Not suing me.

**Authors Note:** Many of you may be all "Oh my god…a 'Wilson's family is maggiiccaall' fic; I hate you" well, for you people: Screw off, seriously. I mean, read the summary, sheesh.

**Pairing:** Eventual Wilson/House

We Begin at a wedding, a shitty wedding I didn't want to go to. A shitty wedding my family didn't want me going to. A shitty wedding that I'm surprised anyone invited me to.

Now I doubt anyone would understand just why I'm such an undesirable guest to have at weddings, unless of course, they knew my family. Nobody in the world would ever believe this, but my family is…I guess you could say, different. We have certain kinds of magic running through us. There're mind readers, spell casters, curse holders, almost anything that you can think of.

And I am stuck being one of three in my family who is, the latter. A curse holder; see, with us curses are like allergies…sort of. Some can be outgrown; some stay with us forever. They vary from all sorts of things, some relate to money, some love, some even food you eat while going on summer vacation to the Philippines in July. They are like people, literally. They follow you around and speak or tug or even fight when a matter concerning them occurs. When they show up, or leave, they will hand you a letter written by hand, signature included, concerning everything that you might need to know. This can be **extremely** annoying when you're sixteen, at a wedding, have no idea what the fuck is going on and suddenly a hand reaches out, pulls you from your seat and proceeds to give you a random letter which (like the hand) seems to come out of nowhere and contains the text:

Dear Jimmy Wilson, 

_I am your first new curse, bravo; you got a good one. Enclosed you will find a picture of yourself screaming like a preteen girl at this letter appearing. Anyways, carrying on, you have hereby received a permanent fulfillment based curse. This curse applies to the subject of love and all that nonsense. You must always stand to catch the bouquet at magical weddings (because we all know it's no fun at normal weddings), and, you will always be the one who happens to catch it. This curse shall be broken and I shall leave (Aww) when you are married, and __**IN LOVE**__. Good Luck and Farewell._

_-You're Screwed,_

_Hugh. _

_P.s. _

_You're so lucky everyone here is married except for that 6 year old, the bulimic chick over there, and Mr. "I'm too cool for __**not**__ stuffing myself full of wedding cake before the bride and groom get to cut it" (It's true, check behind the curtain! Seriously!)_

And yeah, I was lucky (And Hugh **was** right about the cake guy) because magical wedding bouquets, as anyone may have guessed are a bit different from normal bouquets. Normal bouquets are thrown for that whole "who gets married next" thing, magical bouquets are thrown for the same reason, everyone not married stands up for them, men and women, but…whoever happens to catch it must be wed next, everyone else's romantic lives will be put on hold, no going backwards, no going forwards. So you can imagine the torment of not wanting to get married, catching the bouquet, and then having dozens of desperate Jewish women get pissed off and keep trying to set you up on dates. It gets annoying, especially the lonely necromancers…ew. (I have dated so many dead chicks…four of which were my ex-patients!) Anyways, I'm done explaining, that took too long and I can already feel Hugh tugging at my tux and telling me to (and I quote)

"Stand the hell up, you bloody wanker"

To which I sigh, slowly stand, am greeted by the groaning of several women, the cheering of several men, and Hugh snarling and telling me that it was 'about damn time' I stood up. The bride has her back to the crowd, she readies herself, my adrenaline begins to rush, she throws the bouquet, and I begin to run (incidentally not by my own will), I reach my hand up through the crowd, and no surprise, I catch the bouquet.

"Damn it"

I groan in an exasperated manner, drop to the bouquet on the ground and head for my car. Behind me I hear random relatives talk amongst themselves.

"Who cares? He's always getting married anyways."

" Well, I have this really nice friend Susan, and I bet he'll love her!"

"YES! Jane and me are like, sex buddies, right? So Oh my god, It takes Jim MONTHS to get married."

"Oh my god, I was going to get married in a month, and then **someone** just has to pull some strings and get James invited."

"I heard about this celebrity, right? And she died recently, you think if I clean her up a bit, they could get together?"

Something freaks out in my mind… someone pulled strings? Who the hell in my family would "pull strings" to get me invited to a wedding? No one really cares enough to take advantage of my curse, and there really isn't much to take advantage of anyways. And so it crosses my mind: Hugh.

I'm driving home, I'm pissed off, and I can tell that Hugh is smirking just from his tone of voice.

"You pulled strings! Fucking string puller, what the hell?!"

"I just thought it was time for you to start dating again, and…you know, get married. And this time I really think I've found someone that you'll fall in love with. Hell, you may already love them; who knows?"

"Oh, really? Who?"

"I don't remember his name…but you seem to talk to him a lot, and he does find your cooking marvelous…by the way, that reminds me, I want stuffed peppers."

This bit of the conversation took me off guard.

"Wait…Back up, 'He'? I'm not gay."

"And I'm not saying you are! It's just that you seem rather infatuated with this man and..."

"No."

"What?"

"No, just no."

"But-"

"No Peppers if you don't shut up."

"Fine."

And this was the end of our conversation.

**A/N:** **Please review. Was this any good? I feel like I could have done better, a bit too short because I started feeling like I was getting lost in the words and kind of lost control over where I was going with them… I'll try to settle my thoughts and write more soon. And once again, please review so I can tell you actually read it and didn't go on the page go "screw this" and leave. Thank you! (Oh, and yes, there is a reason he is named Hugh, mainly, I couldn't think of a better name and I like making references. And yes, Hugh Is British) **


	2. Pure Contentment

**A/N: I'm Awesome.**

**Disclaimer: If you sue me I will win the case, and use the money to buy House. I win.**

My Office, the safe place, the sanctuary, the home of the leaning tower of paperwork as I so cleverly (is that a word?) have dubbed it. In other words, or, in **House's** words: boring. Hugh agrees with him. Although now that I am bringing Hugh into the thought process, again, I cannot help but be tempted into what appears to be an extremely uncomfortable mindset. I contemplate his words over and over again, not noticing when house enters the room, throws himself down onto my couch and downs a Vicodin. (You may wonder how I noticed this when I stated that I didn't; the answer is that I, indeed, didn't. Hugh did. He's writing a book. A book about my life, from the perspective of "The greatest factor of it" as he enjoys calling himself.)

"Hey Wilson."

I hear House, but choose to stay quiet, wondering how urgent his "crisis" was. Oh me oh my, clinic duty is making my arm melt.

He makes a rather obnoxious whistling noise. Following it up with yet another attempt. "Heyyy, Wilson."

I focus on my paperwork.

He sends his Ipod my way, this of course, is a trick. Because I know that if I don't catch this I'll be shot, and he knows that I know that if I don't catch this I'll be shot. So, much like at the wedding, I shoot out a hand to receive the Ipod. But, very much **unlike **the wedding it misses my hand by an inch and hits the window, almost breaking it. I sigh and turn my head at House with an expression that should be a frown of annoyance, but ends up becoming a mischievous grin that I can't quite hold in. (I just described myself as mischievous, what a laugh.) He grins back, seeing that he's got my attention; not even mad about the failed catch.

"And what, House, is your issue with this establishment we sane folks call a hospital, today?"

"Cuddy gave me clinic duty."

"I could've guessed."

"But my arm could have-"

"I know, Melted?"

He looks at me incredulously and replies. "Well, I was going to say spontaneously combusted…But I like yours more, let's stick with that."

I chuckle softly, my mind clear once again. I reflect on how glad I am to have such a constantly bored friend. It crosses my mind that Hugh has been hinting at me about the wedding situation. So I think about it, and figure with another person always with me, that he may just stay quiet.

"Say, House…Could I maybe stay with you for a while?"

"…Why?"

He's contemplating why I asked…Shit. "No reason, I just kind of need something to occupy myself with."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Your cooking is a perk I'd love to have at my place. I'm just…curious."

"Well, maybe I just get bored on my own?"

He didn't seem to accept this as a truthful answer, but he left me alone for the time being and agreed to my staying at his apartment. Either way, it was better than the dingy hotel that I had been occupying myself at. After a minute or so, House perks up and informs me he's hungry, and I bask in the warmth of the possibility of food. And so, House grabs his cane, I grab his Ipod and we head out to lunch. At which point he takes the opportunity to snag half of my sandwich and a bag of chips. We eat in silence for a moment, before he begins to speak concerning the notion of his sanity.

"Jimmy, is it insane if you keep hearing voices?"

"House, how many times do I have to tell you this, Cuddy is not a voice she is a person."

"No. I mean, random voices…or well, one voice."

I entertained the idea of House hearing voices for a moment and decided to humor him…or believe him, I'm not sure which.

"Fine, what's it been saying to you then."

"Not it, He. He's been telling me I need to date, or, to be more specific, 'Fall in Love'"

This started sounding familiar. I began to wonder cautiously if Hugh had more contact with the human world than I was aware of…

I started up a new question to keep the conversation going.

"So...uh, what'd you tell him?"

"I told him to bother you, and he said you already told him not to."

"Don't look at me. I didn't send any voices your way. Besides, you might have been dreaming, or, for that matter hallucinating."

He gave a smirk before objecting to my statement and laughing.

"Hey! I was the one accusing _you_ of crazy things remember? Not the other way around."

"Yeah, yeah, Oh! Hey, Clinic Duty if you don't get out of here within ten seconds."

He mumbles and turns around, spotting Cuddy he gets up, and with expertise the other "doctor" bids me farewell (not in those words) and glides across the room in a rhythmic sway step motion.

I'm left to stir my coffee and watch Cuddy follow suit and, in what was a rather vain attempt, restrict herself from cursing.

"Found your lover yet?"

I sigh as Hugh grins wide "Not now."

"Oh yes, now."

"And who, may I ask, is my 'lover'."

"You do not want to know."

I argue with Hugh rather unhappily, because, in reality I don't. But…He brought it up! (He's taunting me. Great.) And, I am rather curious, so, I press the matter.

"Yes, I do. Please enlighten me oh powerful _god_."

I say 'god' in a particularly bitter way, the word itself is dripping in a rather arrogant form of venom. (And people are beginning to look at me…) But of course this doesn't bother the 'god' in question at all, and he continues in his vain fashion.

"Oh, well, James, You're making me blush, I'm not a god, simply the greatest being that you have ever encountered, I mean really. Now, concerning your lover"

I begin to stir my coffee idly to emphasize my disinterest in the subject.

"You're living with him"

"Again with the him. Wait? Who am I living with?"

I begin a sip of coffee…Hugh is exasperated and trying to plainly explain to me who this lover is, because of course I **just** don't seem to get it.

"House! You're living with a man by the name of Gregory House! And. You. Love. Him."

My face turns red, and I start to choke on my coffee.

Hugh looks at me, obviously un-amused. Until, of course, he realizes I'm actually choking, at which point he gets extremely worried…I think that's worry anyway, everything is getting a bit dark…He starts to shake at me a bit and I can barely hear him.

"Be Right Back! Okay Jimmy? Be Right Back"

Fucking cafeteria, everyone left around the time I started talking to 'myself'. And it's pitch black.

"Greg."

"Gregory."

"House"

"Gregory Fucking House! Wake up!"

"I am awake, obviously hallucinating, but awake. Go away."

"James Wilson is choking in the cafeteria."

"The nurses will handle it."

"No-one is anywhere near him, they all left when he started talking to himself…Now Let's go!"

This loveless son of a bitch won't get up, and I have to pull him from the couch, and watch him miserably fumble for his cane. Pfft, Jimmy's lover; How could **this** godless emotionally bitch-slapped bastard be the kind of person that James could ever love?

"Alright! I'm getting up."

He decides to cooperate, and after that wasted 30 seconds of conversation he finally springs into action and heads to the cafeteria, me trailing behind him. We get there and he 'humors' me, still assuming that I'm a hallucination.

"Oh Wilssoon"

I grab his arm and drag him over to see James. He sees I wasn't lying and immediately gets to administering the Heimlich maneuver. All the while chanting the same repetitive verse of obscenities.

"Shit…Wilson come on, damn it, you're a doctor, you've got to quit choking on stuff…"

James coughs up some brown liquid…coffee no doubt, and a small piece of bread, and his breathing softens. His face begins turning to its normal shade, and his features relax as House checks his vital signs. Finishing up with the procedure he brushes a bit of hair out James' face and his worried expression softens.

I'm awake, I think…Damn Hugh and his accusations. I'm in an office. My office? No, not my office; Houses messier, more physically disturbed office. He looks over for a moment and notices I'm awake.

"Wilson! You're up! Shit, you have seriously got to stop breathing your coffee, it won't make the work go faster. You've got to get that Comcast mercury shit to do that."

I smile stupidly at the product placement, relieved to be awake and not doing paperwork or dealing with my curse or anything really. Just lying here on this couch in my best friends office, is pretty all I really want, or for that matter **need** at the moment. This is it. Pure contentment.


	3. The Filler Page

A/N: Please review:D…Seriously though I'm bored and want reviews -.- 

**Disclaimer: I own Robert Sean Leonard…He doesn't know it…But err...I do, seriously. And since I do indeed own him, you can't sue me. See the logic there?**

I'm half passed out on House's couch. His magnificent couch slash bed area that I take much pleasure in being half passed out on…I've noticed my habit of saying what I'm doing or where I am and then repeating the same word over again with added description…and I'm clinking beers with my once again roommate. Ahh, the sound of low quality metal on more low quality metal; excellent. Let the witty drunken banter begin! Mean girls is on (not quite sure why we're watching it) and House seems quite ready to dish out the Lindsey Lohan slurs. (And of course, I'm ready to laugh with him about them.)

"Hey Wilson, have you ever found Lindsey Lohan in any way attractive?"

He has a smirk on his face that tells me how well he understands my disturbance at his question. I reply the only that way I can.

"Isn't she like…17?"

"I don't know. But, come on; All the cool kids talk dirty about the underage girls."

I stare him down, unamused. Well, all right, amused. But not willing to let him know about it.

This is it, this lazy intoxicated couch mockery, this is time when me and House participate in our own type of bondage...wait, no, not like that. Like uhh…bonding with an '-age' at the end…I've heard people add things on to words like that! Granted they were mainly teenaged girls, but you know…whatever. These sessions were cherished and made me feel, well, just…good when played back in my mind. I'd always get insanely tired about two thirds through whatever we were doing or watching and want to sleep. He'd whine a bit and then say goodnight and hang out a bit longer before leaving. I liked it when I'd just lie there in the dark with my eyes closed and my hands folded behind my head, and we'd just talk lazily about whatever entered our minds. And at this point in time, I think I've gotten so carried away with thinking that I'm already asleep, because now everything is dark and hazy, and I can hear myself think very clearly. As if I was talking. To a very close friend.


End file.
